Do Not Go Gentle
by heartbeat311
Summary: "She told me to rage," he muttered to himself, stepping out into icy white oblivion. "Rage against the dying of the light."
1. Chapter 1

1.

The taste of blood was thick in her mouth, so thick it almost felt solid. Her eyes struggled to see through the veil of red that gushed down from the wound on her head.

It was just a cut, of that she was sure. Though her head hurt like hell, it did not hurt enough to warrant panic over a potential concussion.

He could kill her though, and probably wanted to. She knew that. But rationality had never been one of her strong suits.

She waited, gasping on blood, smacking her lips to clearly taste it. Because if there was one thing she had to do, it was commit this moment to memory.

"On your feet," came a quiet growl from behind her. She shivered, in both fear and delight, and tried to push herself up on wobbly legs, clutching the wall for support. Shakily, she turned to face him.

And there he was, as naked as she'd ever seen him before. No shirt. Just dressed in boxers and her blood. Her stomach twisted in an almost painful way; she couldn't really describe the feeling as anything but bittersweet.

This was the last, she realized suddenly. He would kill her now, in this room, and this was probably her last night to truly appreciate all that life had given her. Which was him.

He hated her, of course. He hated her because some part of him loved her, and she knew this, too. That's why death didn't scare her. As long as he killed her because he couldn't stand that he was in love with her…Well, that was just fine with her.

An exhausted grin graced her face, which could have been beautiful if it were more feminine. Instead it carried a hard, boyish edge that instantly repelled. She wasn't ugly, but she was definitely not pretty.

His eyes, like shards of ice, hardened. "Don't look at me like that," he spat, and she instantly recognized that he now felt he was on the defensive. She knew it would only be a matter of moments before he was on her again.

She sighed, though it was not a resigned sound, and looked out the window behind her. "The sun's coming up," she said. Translation: better hurry up.

When she turned around, his fist met her face, sending her flying back into the window. It cracked but didn't break, since she caught most of the impact on the frame. She slid to the floor once more, feeling her face from the inside out. Cracked jaw, she thought to herself.

That left hook really was something.

"Stand," he growled, just a few feet from her. He stood, hard and resolute, like a statue. His arms hung at his sides, but they were nowhere near relaxed; for a moment, she was fascinated by the tendons showing through the pale, freckled skin.

"Get up!" he barked, and she obeyed.

She was half expecting him to just shove her back down, but instead he stood there, glaring directly into her eyes. There was rage there, and lust, too. He wants me, she sighed in her head and the smile was back on her face.

His mouth contorted in a snarl. He grabbed her face roughly in his hands, making her jaw ache. "Why do you make me hate you?" he asked, almost in disbelief. She didn't really have an answer for that. Well, she did, but the truth would probably just piss him off more.

Of course what she said in response was equally as stupid.

"I love you," she whispered and coughed on her blood.

His hands clutched her face so tightly that she wondered if he was trying to crush her skull. For a moment, he said nothing. She waited patiently, enjoying the wonder of those piercing eyes.

Her heart nearly burst in her chest when he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, still holding her face as though he wanted to squash it. It wasn't really much of a kiss, more of an assault, but it still made her weak.

After a long moment, he pulled back just slightly, letting his forehead rest against hers. "You're mine," he purred, in a voice both silken and deadly.

Then he threw her back against the window, shattering the glass.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello, all. I hope you all enjoyed this little taste of what's to come. I must tell you, it's not a typical romance, as I'm sure you can already tell. Hope it makes up for the fact that it even _is _a romance. Not even really sure I'll continue it, but what the hell. I'll see how it goes. Anyway, please review.


	2. Chapter 2

NOTE: Alright, so some of you have expressed interest in this story and have even reviewed so thank you! I'll continue to write and see where this leads.

2.

She met him in the rain. The nighttime had fallen quickly due to the furious, grumbling rainclouds above, and so the creatures of the night had stirred earlier than usual.

She had stayed at the library past closing time, which, in itself, wasn't too unusual for her.

The library itself closed at six. She was lucky to get out of there at eight. It wasn't because she had to- she wanted to. It was why she'd become a librarian in the first place- she loved to read. Books held an appeal for her like nothing else could.

The unusual part about that night was that she hadn't stayed late to read. She had stayed late to change into her costume.

It was her first night. Her first night _ever_. She'd read all the newspapers and biographies. She'd done her research. She'd spent hour after hour formulating her persona, piecing together her costume. She'd spent time at the gym, next to the fierce redhead with whom she knew she could never compete and secretly hoped she never met on patrol.

She didn't know what to expect, but she felt ready.

The rain fell upon her shoulders like it wanted to drown her. She shivered in her costume, wishing she had access to some kind of waterproof material.

The streets had seemed quiet that night, but the feeling underneath the silence mirrored the feeling underneath her skin- expectant. She could feel a palpable difference in the air, an electricity, as though there was another storm just waiting to break.

Three hours into the night and that invisible storm finally decided to break.

She heard the shouts when she passed by an alley. It was the same alley she'd passed at least three times that night, except that now it was suddenly alive with violence.

Peering into the rain-darkened shadows, she felt a deep stirring within her. It was as though the electricity was suddenly_ inside_ her. She couldn't distinguish man from shadow, but the movement and the sounds were distinctly human, and she knew in that moment that it was now or never.

Against all her basic survival instincts, she raced into the alley headlong. Her heart thundered fearfully in her chest, excited palpitations that racked her entire system and made the blood turn to ice and fire in her veins. She readied herself, singling out one of the men, separating him from the rain-soaked shadows. Her muscles bunched and then she flew.

The impact was jarring; it shook her to her bones. He wasn't expecting it, either; she caught a brief glimpse of his face and a small part of her wanted to laugh at how ridiculous he looked. They both tumbled to the ground in a tangle of flailing limbs and tension.

She landed on top of him, hastily pressing her hands onto his shoulders to keep him down. He glared up at her, spitting out several obscenities in a loose string of spluttering, colorful language. She kept him pinned to the ground with her knees in his chest, threw him a cheerful smile, and then kindly swept her fist into his nose.

The crunch of the cartilage, the warm splatter of blood on her suddenly hot knuckles, was so fiercely satisfying that she instantly came alive with a passion she had never before felt. She'd caught glimpses of it, in the gym when she was on a roll, and sometimes alone in bed. She'd never acted on it, however, and never traced the origin.

Now she knew in a flash of insight what it was, and the space between her thighs ached suddenly and passionately. She began to pummel the man, relishing the way his soft flesh gave underneath her bony knuckles, craving the heat of his blood in between her fingers, the stickiness of it as it washed her skin in red.

When the blow came she was not expecting it, and it nearly swept her off her feet in pain and pleasure. It was a boot, she vaguely registered, and the impact of it against her skull was a blinding pain, an explosion of bright red across her sight for just a heartbeat.

She went flying off of her victim and crashed into the wall of the alley to her left. Her left shoulder took most of the impact; she thought she heard a crack but couldn't be sure. The breath rushed from her mouth in a loud _huff_, almost as though she were vomiting air.

Looking up through eyes filling with tears, she saw two other men approaching. The rain and shadows fell heavily on all sides, so she couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw the bodies of other men on the ground with her. So her victim wasn't the only one.

One of the men grabbed her by the front of her shirt and sat her up, slamming her back into the wall so hard she gasped. Pain lanced up her spine and made her grit her teeth, but she forced herself to remain conscious even though her head was whirling.

She was aware of words, but they didn't make sense. They jumbled together and confused her, so she just stopped listening. Instead she watched as the man in front of her pressed the tip of a knife against her chest, and the other man bent down next to her and touched her thigh.

The thin material of her costume was like a second skin, and so permitted the feeling of his fingertips to travel up her nerve endings in a shock of electricity. Part of her was disgusted, horrified, angry, offended. Everything she knew she should feel in this horrific moment. But part of her was perversely turned on, and that was the part of her that convinced her to stay where she was, to not move or fight back, because she was "too dizzy to do any good".

She slipped in and out of consciousness as the men set to work. She was only briefly, dizzyingly aware of particular sensations. Sharp pinpricks of pain in her chest where the knife tip worked its way under her skin. A rough pass across her breasts, which she couldn't tell were exposed or not. A rush of fabric against her skin as her leggings were torn down from her torso. Hot, insistent pushing between those legs.

And then, suddenly, there was a shout from the man entangled in her legs. The hardness in her immediately deflated and pulled out, and at the same time there was a sense of both relief and emptiness once he was gone. She kept her eyes closed for a moment, simply listening to the sounds- the angry shouts, the scuffling- and tried to keep herself from drifting away completely. Her spinning head was still light, and things had the distinct but unconquerable feeling of being unreal.

After a few seconds, the sounds ended, leaving only the rain. She sighed, deciding it was probably time to open her eyes. She wondered briefly what the fight had been about, guessing the other man had wanted a turn with her and they'd fought.

But when she opened her eyes, she could clearly see the two men both on the ground in front of her, soaked in blood and rain. Her mouth fell open in shock. What had happened?

That's when she saw something move in the shadows to her right. Glancing over, she squinted through the rain, fighting back the dizziness and the waves of painful exhaustion.

And then she felt her heart do a startled flip in her chest when she recognized _him_.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alright, hope you all liked this chapter. Like I said, it's going to be pretty dark, so don't be expecting cheeriness! That said, I _do _hope you all have a cheery day, and try not to get caught in a dark alley with some sketchy guys! :D


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